


Not yet

by forgotheparable



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, Gore, M/M, Mind Control, Murder, Surreal, devil!dende, unreality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgotheparable/pseuds/forgotheparable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dende, Guardian of the Earth, is left stunned when his lover, Suri Daimao, is struck down with a terminal illness. After numerous attempts to cure his ailment, he meets with Kibito Kai to plead with them to allow Suri to live; even offering to trade his own life for his. When his request is denied, Dende decides to take matters into his own hands.</p>
<p>A series of interconnected ficlets depicting the consequences of Dende's actions and how they have affected the lives of those around him.</p>
<p>Heavily inspired by Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Rebellion. More detailed summary of universe can be found <a href="http://c00bies.tumblr.com/post/115522293031/devil-dende-au-inspired-by-puella-magi-madoka">here.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Omnia vincit amor

**Author's Note:**

> Marron confronts Dende over his decision to sacrifice a portion of the human race to resurrect Suri.
> 
> Mentions of gore, abuse and murder. Mind control/brainwashing. Suri belongs to Shirepower2012.

There she was.

She was standing there, defiance personified. Golden locks lifted in the gentle breeze, lifting them around her head. It resembled an aura, a golden halo, the backdrop of saints and martyrs.

Dende didn’t even have to turn around to know she was there. Her eyes bored into his back and her very presence radiated vehemence. He sighed, a touch of irritation prickling at his thoughts. To think that he would be able to have some peace and quiet to collect his thoughts, obviously that had been too much to ask. Just like everything else he asked for. “Marron. How can I help you?”

His ears perked, pleasure rippling throughout him when he heard her bristling. Since when had he become so antagonistic, and since when had he derived such pleasure from it? Although, he supposed, he had never liked Marron. She had always been too nosy, too intrusive, trying to poke her way between him and Suri; trying to get in the way of something that she couldn’t possibly understand.

“You,” she hissed, her voice drawn through gritted teeth. “Who do you think you are?”

Dende laughed mirthlessly. The sound was hollow, devoid of sincerity. “What do you think I am?”

He had taken her aback, he knew from her silence, but it didn’t take long for Marron to react. She was like her mother– sharp as a knife, and she threw retorts just like them. It made for good entertainment, for she had inherited her father’s sense of moral rightness, and thus she always rose to bite the bait. “I think you’re – you’re the devil!”

Dende mused to himself, a devil? Evil was associated with the devil, and evil was different depending on what sect of human philosophy one followed. “And what makes you think that?”

“You murdered all those people!” Marron screamed, her voice twisted and strained through fury. “All those people – 100000 of them, just to bring Suri back!”

Dende grimaced, only because the shrillness of her voice hurt his ears.

She ranted on, a sanctimonious tirade peppered with demands for answers – why did he sacrifice all those people and what made him think he had the right to, being among the most prominent. A sigh bordering on exasperation left Dende, as he waited for Marron to finish wittering on so he could give her the answers she so desired.

Or rather, the answers he would give her; for he knew they would not be the ones she wanted to hear.

He turned around, fixing her with a tired look. “Do you know how many of your people die of hunger each day?”

Marron’s face, flushed with anger, cleared. Her lips parted, and for a moment she looked confused, but that soon gave way to irritation. She scowled. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“21000 people die every day from hunger,” Dende said, as he began to walk to her. “One every four seconds. More people have been killed in one single week of hunger than by my hand for as long as I’ve lived.”

“And why is that?” he crooned. Dende’s voice was soft, silken, yet laced with venom. He could see Marron stiffening as he approached ever closer. “It is because humans are innately selfish, incapable of giving with no intention of receiving. They crave power, power over their lives; power over their lovers, their families; their friends and foes. Your entire economic structure is based on a reward system that congratulates those who step on the vulnerable to climb to the top. No matter how much you humans receive you still want more; and when you don’t get it then you resort to murder, to rape and theft and fraud.”

He was standing in front of her now. A smile twisted the namekian’s lips at the sight of the girl’s face paling. “That is why there is so much injustice in your world. That is why there is so much suffering. It is all brought on yourselves.” He laughed humourlessly. “And you have the nerve to stand here and lecture me for taking the lives of your horrible people, who would kill one another without a second thought should they be driven to do so. Why is it that you hear about these tragic events and don’t bat an eyelid, hmm? Why is it that your media would rather tell of some insipid celebrity than of the horror that goes on in your world, every second of every day?”

He leaned in, whispering. “It’s because none of you really care, so long as it doesn’t affect you personally. I know this,” Dende retracted, sneering “because I have spent each and every moment of my life on this planet watching your race. I have better insight than you could ever hope to comprehend, and a million of them wouldn’t be worth one of Suri.”

Marron’s face was a waxy, sickly paleness. “You…” she stumbled back, eyes wide with horror. “How…How can you…there were children there!” she shrieked.

“And what of it?” Dende said dismissively. “They’ll grow up to be just like the rest of you. I’m simply saving them while they’re still innocent.”

“…You…YOU-”

Marron lunged forward, throwing a fist. Dende’s eyes narrowed, and he sidestepped, perceiving the action before she had time to execute it.

She stumbled and tripped, falling to her knees. A dry sob wracked her body, dirty blonde hair falling over her face. “How…”

The former Guardian sighed irritably. “Do you go out and protest against the thousands of children who starve to death each day? Do you do anything to actually assist your own kind, to address the inequality that is the root of so much violence and suffering in your world?”

Marron was quiet.

Dende shook his head. “I thought not. And yet, you feel you have some sort of moral superiority over me. Let me tell you that I have saved many more than I have let die, certainly more than have died in that incident. I have done more than your charities have, and I have made more progress in helping your vulnerable than your shallow little mind could ever imagine.”

That wasn’t a lie. In fact, Dende was still averse to lying as he ever was, and now he was more honest with himself than ever. Suri was worth a million humans, and he would’ve sacrificed that amount if it had been required.

“You will never understand,” he said tersely.

Marron’s head snapped up, her eyes filled with blue fire. “That’s because I’m not capable of mass murder!” she spat.

Dende shook his head. “No. It’s because you aren’t capable of feeling on a level for another as we are – as my race is.”

“Your definition of empathy is meagre compared to ours. Our empathy is telepathic, and it is a biological reality we cannot deny or escape. We feel what every other feels, whether we want to or not – happiness, pain, anguish and misery, and love. It is for that reason that we are so peaceful – it is because we are literally hurting ourselves if we hurt one another.”

“When Suri died, I-” Dende gritted his teeth. “I could feel his spirit being ripped from his physical form, as if someone had torn my very heart from my own body.”

It was pure hell. Thinking of it, Dende could almost feel the agony tearing him asunder, fracturing his sanity from sheer pain alone – physical, mental and emotional. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, or anything he thought was possible to experience – he felt as if he had been ripped in half, bones breaking and snapping, muscles tearing and joints dislocating. Coherency, rationale and reason ceased to exist, as the telepathic bond he and Suri shared was cruelly severed, their interlinked minds being torn apart.

“Considering I managed to survive is a feat alone, never mind having the sense not to kill everyone on this damned planet.” Dende’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits. “It is not a matter of me having simply known that I had lost Suri, it was that I had quite literally gone insane. I asked, no, begged the Kai to allow me to trade my life for his, but it couldn’t be done, apparently. So this,” he swept a hand behind him, to the sea of cloud and the world beneath it. “Was my last resort.”

“But do not hope for me to regret my actions,” he said quietly. “For I do not. As broken as I am, I will continue to fight for a world where he is happy. No matter what I will become, or how much he grows to hate me, I will never stop my efforts.”

A gentle smile curved his lips.

Marron remained on the floor, bereft. All the spite that had fuelled her had drained from her body, rendering her limp on the tiled floor.

“He isn’t happy, though,” she whispered, voice cracking. “He thinks that all those people died because of him; that you killed them all just to bring him back. Do you know how that makes him feel, what it’s done to him?”

Dende frowned. He hadn’t thought of that, but then, Suri was so caring and so loving that he would think that, wouldn’t he?

“Well that simply won’t do.” He had to fix that, and he could – with a few minor adjustments to reality. Yes, Dende thought, he could do that quite easily. “Thank you for bringing that to my attention, Marron. You may be of some assistance yet.”

Marron’s jaw dropped and she scrabbled to her feet “What – WAIT-”

Dende clapped his hands. A frisson of energy rippled throughout the evening, spreading out into the atmosphere, penetrating the planet and seeping into the minds of the people…

Marron blinked, her features settling into one of light confusion. After straightening out her clothes, she gave the other a wave. “Hi Dende!”

The demon smiled. “Hello, Marron. How can I help you?”


	2. Fallaces sunt rerum species

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The appearances of things are deceptive._
> 
> Warnings: Allusions to brainwashing, unreality, that sort of thing.
> 
> Suri contemplates Dende’s true nature over a game of chess.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

Suri flinched at the soft voice, at the innocuous question which jerked him from the trenches of his thoughts. He blinked, shaking his head before flashing a sheepish smile at his companion opposite him. “Sorry,” the namekian said, rubbing the back of his neck “what was that?”

Dende said nothing, his dark eyes remaining fixed on him. They were a strange colour now. Gone was the clear, bright blue that so easily betrayed his emotions, and in its place was an inky darkness reminiscent of the deepest seas. Within them, iridescent colour danced to an unknown beat, a waltz.

The former guardian smiled amiably. “It’s nothing.”

Suri didn’t quite know what to make of Dende’s transformation. At first he had been too shocked with the prospect of living, after preparing to die for so long; after having gone through the five stages of grief to finally reach acceptance, here he was. He was alive – very much so, he felt more so now than he ever had been. Whether that was because of his newfound appreciation for existing or because of Dende’s alterations to reality was something Suri wasn’t sure of. The colours of the grass, the trees and the sky were brighter, the sun shone just that little more and at night, it was as if the universe was spread out in front of them. It was almost as if this new reality was trying to entice them into accepting it; it was all a little contrived. The flowers smelled too strongly, the colours were too gaudy, and it hurt his eyes to look at the sky.

They sat opposite one another, a chess board laid out on the table between them. It was an old tradition of theirs, but whilst they had always lost and won in good spirit, the air now seemed charged with something akin to competition – not to win the chess game, per se, but…

Suri moved his rook. “Your play.”

He watched his lover as he studied the board over steepled fingers. The younger male had to wonder if Dende could see into the future, if he could plan out his next move, strategize just as he was right now.

His lips twitched and he reached out to move his bishop.

If Suri inherited anything from his father, it was his tactical abilities. He knew enough about Dende that he could push him into restoring the universe to its former state, where law prevailed over love, but he hadn’t. Why? Why hadn’t he taken it upon himself to do what no other could; what Goku and Piccolo couldn’t, for all their strength and valour?

What was making him hesitate?

It wasn’t that Suri wanted to return; for although he had never wanted to die, he would never choose his life over the lives of others, and hundreds of thousands of them at that. There was an inexplicable wrongness about his existence, and that coupled with an intense sort of ‘survivor’s guilt’ made him reluctant to embrace his second chance. It also wasn’t as if Suri was scared of Dende either, even if he wasn’t all too sure of whom he was anymore. He couldn’t bring himself to feel fear, no matter how frightening the implications of his actions were; for Suri couldn’t forget the nights Dende would tremble in silence against him, struggling under the weight of the world he carried, nor could he displace the memory of seeing him with his hands clasped in ardent, desperate prayer. To whom Dende had been praying to Suri would never know, but he knew as much that despite Dende’s divinity, he still retained his humanity – perhaps too much, in retrospect. So he knew no matter what Dende would become, he wasn’t truly capable of harming neither him nor anyone else if he could help it.

He took Dende’s queen, and heard his contented sigh.

Their link was different than it had been before. Entering what was once the sanctuary of Dende’s mind was now painful, not because of what was contained within, but because of how fractured it was. It was only when Suri attempted to feel him out that he realised the extent of the damage his death had caused; that the severance of their telepathic bond had more or less shattered what little sanity Dende had at the time. He had dealt with so much, kept a calm, patient demeanour and a warm smile in the face of it all, but his veneer hid the anguish that was slowly corroding him within. His hope shifted into despair, and as a God he could not pass on as many namekians did when their mate had. The agony he had experienced over Suri’s death culminated when he was told he could not sacrifice himself to restore his life, and he cracked.

But instead of breaking entirely, his resolve was reformed. Instead of following the laws of the universe, instead of preserving order, Dende went against his nature and stole a part of the Supreme Kai – his powers over the gods and all the aspects of their divinity. In short, he granted himself his own desires, an act of treason of the highest order, and became a demon.

Suri never would’ve imagined Dende could possibly do such a thing, but as his father confided to him one night he would’ve done the same; he realised that his actions were spurred on by the same motive that had driven him to protect the earth.

And as Suri looked up to see Dende chewing his lip in the same perturbed fashion he had always done, he laughed.

Dende glanced up with equal measures of curiosity and confusion etched into his features. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Suri smiled, reaching out for the glass of lemonade on the table.

Dende leaned back, sighing in relent. “I think I’m done for,” he said, gesturing to the board. Indeed, he was more or less locked out, for any move would immediately place his king in jeopardy. “You’re still so much better at this than I am.”

Suri smirked. “Are you sure you aren’t just letting me win again?”

“I haven’t done that since you were a child,” he retorted, although there was a brief hesitation, a question in his glimmering eyes, before he spoke. Dende clasped his hands together, a slight smile curving his lips. “I can’t predict the future, even in my current form.”

The ruefulness of his tone was not missed. Suri took a long drink of the juice, tasting the faint bitterness of lemon amongst the sweet sugar.

“Even though you could change it to your liking?”

It wasn’t an accusation, merely a statement. Dende chuckled, nonplussed. “And what would be the fun in that?” His eyes gleamed with strange, unnatural colours.  “Life that goes just as one wants it to is boring, and you should know that demons love nothing more than a challenge.”

Memories of a previous life, of an orange gi and a ruthless battle, came to the fore. “Yes,” Suri agreed. He paused for a brief moment in reminiscence of a time he had never been around to see, yet knew as personally as if he had experienced it himself. “That’s true.”

“Well,” Dende leaned back, regarding his lover with a fond expression. “You don’t have to worry about me trying to do such a thing, do you?”

In the end, Suri couldn’t be certain. This could all just be part of Dende’s ploy to reassure his doubtful mind, to keep him happy in this new reality where he can keep him alive and safe. It was a very valid theory, and he knew Dende had more than enough power to enact it, but as he had said – he was a demon, the opposite of order, and demons needed a semblance of chaos to exist. Even in his altered universe, Dende would never truly be at rest – there would always be something to work on, something to improve. That was just him, though. It was how he had always been.

“You don’t get daffodils in red.”

Suri smiled broadly as he saw Dende’s expression shift through a spectrum of emotions, from bafflement to realisation, incredulity then exultation. Aw yes. Still got it.

He took Dende’s king.

“Checkmate.”


	3. Eis quos amo vivo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I live for those I love_
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of death, possible abuse, murder
> 
> Chichi invites Dende over for tea.

“I want to thank you.”

Dende paused, the hand holding his teacup frozen in mid-air. Considering he had stolen the Supreme Kai’s power and sacrificed a city to resurrect his lover; rewritten reality to his own liking, regardless of the feelings of others and then fought Goku, those had not been the words he had expected to hear from Son-Daimao Chichi. If Dende were being honest, he had felt incredibly uneasy about accepting her invitation for tea, even if she was the mother of his mate. In fact, that only made the prospect even more terrifying.

Dende may be a demon, the personification of selfish and sinful love, but Chichi was…well, Chichi was scary. No matter how powerful Dende was now, he would never be able to erase the memories he had of her brandishing a sword at Roshi, of her tearing a strip from her then-husband for Gohan’s studies being neglected. Fear was a survival instinct, but it was also irrational. Dende knew this, because he would still rather run into Freiza’s arms than attempt to take on Chichi for one single second.

“I’m…I’m sorry?” Dende stuttered, his cool façade breaking under the weight of his surprise.

“I said, I want to thank you.” Chichi was calm, but that was no reason to be wary. For all he knew, she could be sincere, but still want to make leather out of his hide. He couldn’t allow himself to relax, not yet.

“You…you want to thank me?” Dende shook his head, setting the china cup down on the table. “Forgive me, but may I ask what for?”

“I was just going to elaborate.” Chichi refilled their teacups. The pastries in front of them laid untouched – they were more a talking point than anything else, and Dende rarely indulged in sweets.

The house was quiet, silent aside from the whirring of appliances, the hum of electric lights. Suri and Viola were at school, Piccolo was…absent, and Goten was at university. So that left the two, alone. The knowledge that Chichi could kill and very well serve him up for Goku’s next dinner was humbling.

Chichi shifted in her seat, getting comfortable. Her eyes were sharp, but not unkind. “You saved my boy – two of my boys, actually. I want to thank you for that.”

Dende was silent, processing her words. Piccolo had told her about Dende’s new form, after she had interrogated him. She was too shrewd to miss something as drastic as that, as well as the change that rippled throughout the world, through time and space.

There was also the fact that Suri had been brought back from certain death.

“But you understand how I managed to bring him back?” Dende asked tensely.

“Yes.” Her voice was definite. “You tore the Supreme Kai’s power of divine government so you could exercise your own divinity to its fullest extent; you then proceeded to sacrifice 100 000 people so you could create enough of a karmic imbalance to grant a miracle – to resurrect Suri. Am I correct?”

Chichi had worded it beautifully. The atrocities he had inflicted put into prose.

“Yes,” Dende nodded, somewhat slowly. “And you heard what transpired between myself and Goku, correct?”

“Yes.” She looked down, gazing into her cup of tea. Her reflection within the amber liquid rippled as she raised the cup to drink from it. “You fought him, then said that Gohan would die an early death because of an incurable disease he would inherit.” Her voice faltered ever so slightly, emotion rippling through her words. “And the Kai wouldn’t intervene.”

“Indeed.”

“So.” Chichi looked up. “You’ve saved Suri, and you’re saving Gohan as well?”

Dende nodded.

“Even though…he isn’t talking to you?”

The former Guardian snorted. “I’m not so petty as to allow such a tragic fate to fall upon him just because he refuses to speak with me.” He gave a dismissive wave. “It’s neither here nor there. It’d be the same if Suri didn’t want to see me anymore.”

“So you say,” Chichi said, sharply.

“It’s true.” Dende’s voice hardened, for even if she intimidated him, his resolve to protect Suri was strong enough to overcome it. “I never expected him to reconcile with me after what I did. I might have reshaped this universe to my desire, but that desire is not for my own happiness, but for his. And if he wouldn’t be happy with me, I would let him go.”

The mother softened. “So why then is your love deemed so selfish?”

“Because I am willing to hurt others in order to attain what I want.” His finger traced the rim of the teacup. “It so happens that what I want is nothing that will gain me personally, besides the gratification of seeing Suri alive and happy. All I want is to protect him, and whether he likes it or not I will continue to fight for a world where he is happy.”

Chichi was quiet for a long time.

“We aren’t so different, you and I.”

Dende gave the woman a rueful smile. “You would kill that many for your own?”

Chichi didn’t miss a beat. “I think you know what the answer to that is.”

The demon’s eyes widened a fraction in realisation to what should’ve been obvious all this time. Then he laughed. Of course. How could I be so obtuse?

She and Goku were opposites in so many ways, in their personalities, in their appearances, in their aspirations and hopes and desires; but Dende had always imagined her to be aligned the same way her former husband was concerning selfish desires. What Goku saw in black in white, Chichi saw the myriad of greys between. She was love, Goku was hope; Chichi was mercy whilst he was justice; and Chichi valued the lives of her children above all others, whereas Goku saw every life as equal.

Chichi was smiling herself when Dende focused back upon her. She gestured to the plates. “Have a cake, Dende. Suri made them.”

Dende nodded, picking a lemon slice up and biting into it. The icing hurt his teeth and the curd was sharply sweet against his tongue.

It was delicious.


End file.
